


Battle Scars

by SachikoKuroichi



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: M/M, favourite hobby, no beta we die like V did, torturing Vergil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SachikoKuroichi/pseuds/SachikoKuroichi
Summary: "Vergil had never thought of himself as a coward. Or as an easily intimidated man. On the contrary, he always had considered himself a very adaptable being.Oh, how wrong he was.Getting used to live with his brother after all those years apart was worse than everything he had to go through his entire life.Okay, maybe he was a little bit dramatic here, but it definitely wasn't going too well."
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Kudos: 10





	Battle Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gummibeere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummibeere/gifts).



> Welcome to my newest work!  
> A fair warning beforehand: this is not beta-read! I actually have to decide between writing new stuff or beta-read my already written works because of work and other stuff in my life going on. Also I'm very low on motivation and energy in general atm... so if you find some mistakes - keep them. I don't need them anymore. xD  
> Also feel free to point them out to me - I'll kick them out.
> 
> As always there's a song that's the reason for this story to exist: [Battle Scars - Paradise Fears (with lyrics)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5r1OvEdXs8)
> 
> Have fun <3

Coming back from hell hadn't been the hardest part. At least not for Vergil. With Yamato in his hands there was no place he couldn't go.

To take Dante with him was a rather unconscious decision, but in the end there was no way that he could have left him in the underworld. Even if he didn't want to admit it to himself, he owed his twin. After all he’d done in the past, he'd still always tried to see the good in him, never gave up on him, always tried to make him see another way, wanted him to join him, wanted to spend their lives together.  
And now, with him (and his son Nero), Vergil could have exactly that. A life with the only two remaining members of his family. Without all the struggles, the fighting, the hurt, the bloodshed, the pain of having to part from the other half of his own soul.

Vergil had never thought of himself as a coward. Or as an easily intimidated man. On the contrary, he always had considered himself a very adaptable being.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Getting used to live with his brother after all those years apart was worse than everything he had to go through his entire life.  
Okay, maybe he was a little bit dramatic here, but it definitely wasn't going too well.

Dante was trying his best, but both could feel the distance between them. The trust Vergil had worked so hard to shatter into the tiniest pieces was not easily repaired. His brother was always on edge around him, like he was expecting an attack anytime. Every single time his twin left, be it for an errand or a mission, there was the little moment between them that felt like Dante was bidding his goodbye to him. But even worse was the slip on his face, showing his genuine surprise about him still here when he got back. His brother for sure didn't want him to know, tried his hardest to not act like it around him, but Vergil was no idiot. He knew how to look for the signs. Even after all those years apart, he knew exactly how to read Dante.

Getting used to all the company that showed their faces seemingly completely random was especially difficult for the half-demon. While none of them was able to kill him, or even inflict some serious injuries, they were a huge part of his brother's life and if he even remotely dared to hope to get a permanent place somewhere in there too, he needed to get along with them... at least somehow. But getting used to them, to their different antics, to them looking at him with their distrusting glances, having to reason himself for everything he did or not did, was nothing Vergil was capable of.

He thought.

But then he caught a fleeting glimpse of Dante's face when he first managed to exchange some stiff words with his son, not really worthy of a conversation’s definition, but it was enough to please him beyond comprehension and his face was showing off exactly that. Vergil then knew that he'd do everything to make him look that happy or even happier again. Because if one deserved all the good things in life it was his foolish little brother. And if it took him to get along with his little friends, then so be it.

Easier said than done.

Even with him being more in tune with his human side, which was stronger than ever before within him after allowing V to run around on his own for over a month, Vergil was at loss. He just felt more than he could handle, not that those feelings ever helped him. He was not suited to have them in the first place, but that didn’t stop them from popping up seemingly randomly in his mind.

He felt so out of control, causing a nauseous feeling to appear more and more often. The constant stress of having to make this right, to not fuck this up, to find a fucking way, without letting anyone know, without letting anyone (least of all Dante) look past his facade, was wearing him down.

Even while being reborn, having fused his two halves, Vergil still felt the consequences. He was unable to rest properly, after so long without a proper bed, it felt alien to him to just lie down and relax. Hell, alone the word “relax” was enough to send his mind into a frenzy. There was no way he could sleep.

So Vergil trained. He trained hard, enlisted Dante regularly to spar with him. Even Nero invited himself more and more often to join them when he was in town and so the older half-demon came to know how good it felt to fight **with** his family instead of against them. They often teamed up against each other. Father and son against the red demon. Dante and Nero against him, which actually was Vergil’s least favourite, because it reminded him of him being the villain for most of their past’s encounters.

Fighting alongside his brother felt natural, like their life always should have been that. Even if the fights were always over too soon like that, with the power too unbalanced between the twins and the younger part demon, Vergil lived for those moments. Not that he let them know. Ever. He just didn’t know what to say to them. How to get his feelings across without making it weird between them. None of them were known to be great with heart-to-hearts after all.

After a decent workout, that consisted of various fights and a great amount of drill routines, Vergil was at least close to say he’s somehow ready to take a shower and try to get a short amount of sleep.

Showering was a quick affair for him, just performed for the aspect of getting rid of sweat, blood and everything else he got onto himself during his training session. He didn’t enjoy warm water on his skin. But the cold showers he’d always loved in his youth were not enjoyable anymore.

Surrounded by the cold water his mind always provided him with too many memories. Phantom pain started to arise, causing him to relive the torture of becoming Nelo Angelo again and again. Vergil gritted his teeth, almost to the point of them shattering, fangs burying themselves into his flesh, drawing blood.

He hated how weak he’d become. After all he’d been through, all he’d accomplished, to get betrayed by his own mind, his own body.

He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and put one onto his hair, rubbing them dry.

Even if he really tried to not look into the mirror, he always caught a glimpse of his reflection. He hated to look at himself nowadays. With his hair down he always looked too similar to Dante, but now, after being reborn, the familiarity was different. Yes, they still looked like twins, but not like before. Nobody would confuse them anymore. Dante looked a little bit older than him, he was broader, more tanky, even his eyes looked different nowadays. But Vergil was also glad about that. He didn’t know if he’d be able to stand the sight of all his scars, the testaments of his torture, his pain etched into his skin, and associate that with his twin.

No, the thought of all those things done to Dante made the older half demon sick to the core. Not wanting to waste another thought on his scars, _again_ , he turned away from the mirror, dressed himself again and went to bed.

Peaceful sleep eluded him since the day demons had hunted them down, had killed their mother and had set his home on fire in the process. But now, after all the shit he’d been through, his already troubled sleep got regularly interrupted by nightmares.

Mundus was all present and perfectly alive in them, his three eyes hunted him, inflicted pain, twisted his mind, turned him into a brainless marionette again and again. More often than not he was just barely able to contain a terrified scream last minute before it could escape him and alert Dante. He didn’t want his brother to know. All those struggles were just signs of weakness to him. A weakness he never wanted to have. He was supposed to be the strong one. Able to protect Dante. And now there was also Nero.

The pressure on his mind was too much to endure, without a single way left to relax. Exhausted, without enough sleep, the only nutrition inside his body being the leftover power from various hunts, as he couldn’t bring himself to eat proper food after all those years in hell. Coffee was okay. Coffee and alcohol. Vergil refused to eat the disgusting stuff Dante called food. He’d rather eat a whole Nidhogg hatchling raw than a bite of one of his pizza slices.

Exhausted, tormented in his sleep, paranoid and always alerted about every possible tiny noise, malnourished, with muscles that knew no relaxation, Vergil tried to survive the best he could manage. But his worse getting condition was also not good for his mood. Getting irritated quickly, he lashed out more often, insulting everyone around him, dodging Lady’s bullets just barely, even when they would never know about it. He decided on most of his days that it wasn’t worth it and holed himself up in his room, a tiny place Dante offered him generously, stating that he didn’t use it anyway so it could be his from now on. He wanted to do everyone a favour and spare them his irrational moods. He knew that they weren’t helping him with mending the bonds he’d broken or avoided to build in the past.

But hiding from everyone just resulted in Dante being on edge. Vergil could almost feel it, but mostly he could hear it. The nervous pacing, the restlessness his twin showed. It made Vergil itch too.

He knew exactly what his brother was thinking about his behaviour. He thought that he was trying to come up with another plan to obtain more power, a new way to rule over the world, but there was one thing nobody knew about the oldest Sparda, not even Dante: He never wanted to rule over anything. He just wanted to be powerful enough to protect the one dear to him. It was always about Dante and the urge to protect him. But as said, his twin had no way of knowing that and so it was pretty understandable to think that Vergil was again up to no good.

But no, he was just tired. Tired of living this life, not being able to fit in, even after all the effort he tried to put into it, it seemed to be just impossible. There was no guide, no book, none of that, not a single soul that could tell him how to make this right.

Vergil’s mood swings got worse with every passing day, as was his general condition. He needed some energy. He needed to kill something.

So he took the next job that Morrison brought in. It sounded like a simple job to do. A hunted building of some rich dude, the occupant had already killed his wife and some of his servants. Now said guy was offering a lot of money to get his petty little revenge. Vergil was all too familiar with that sentiment.

Dante looked unhappy with him taking on the job, why exactly was beyond him, after all he should know better than anyone else that he could take on stronger demons than this one.

“Be safe.”

A faint whisper, muttered after he’d already left the Devil May Cry, almost like Dante didn’t want him to hear it. It caused some pesky little feeling to appear inside of Vergil, making him feel slightly warm and bubbly.

~*~

This had been a bad idea. His sight was swimming, dark spots danced in front of his eyes. His movements were sluggish, sloppy and not as deadly as usual. His energy depleted to the point he couldn’t call onto his demonic forms anymore. Vergil was furious, mostly with himself. He should’ve known better! Apparently, he didn’t learn a single thing from his past mistakes. Once a fool, always one it seemed. But as always, he wasn’t ready to accept defeat. Not at all. He could still fight!

“Oh, can you? Little one, so stubborn. I see your father in you, little Sparda.”

Vergil froze. That voice. It couldn’t be.  
Darkness started to surround him. There was nothing to see anymore. Until he saw them. Red eyes.  
His mind went blank. It couldn’t be true!

“Oh, it is true, little Sparda. Believe it. You thought you could escape me? There’s no escape from me, Nelo Angelo.”

A pained scream started to bubble up in his chest. That name caused all his traumata to resurface again. All the pain, the fear, the cold. All those things took a tight hold on him, making it impossible to form a single coherent thought. Impossible to move, to fight. To save himself. He was too tired. Maybe it was time to pay for his sins.

“Hey, that one’s mine to fuck around with! You gonna need to find another one I’m afraid.”

That voice... it couldn’t be... was it a trick?

“Another one?”

That wasn’t right. Mundus already knew about Dante. They’d fought on Mallet Island after all. His twin had told him the story back then when they’d still been in hell.

“Didn’t see that in his memories, huh? Little copycat.”

The devil sword Dante shot some spectral weapons at those eyes that kept him frozen to the spot. A shrill screeching noise could be heard and suddenly the darkness vanished, making way for the sunlight that came through the estate’s windows.

Vergil had to close his eyes, as the light hurt his tired eyes. A growl reached his ears, a noise all too familiar to him. Then Dante slicing through flesh. The stench of foul demon blood flooded his nostrils the next moment. His twin was taking care of this enemy. Vergil couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and watch. His mind was still trying to catch up with everything that happened right now. His brother had been following him? And now he came to save him? Just... like that? Vergil for sure didn’t ask for it, didn’t know he would need his help.

Okay, scratch that. He’d known that he needed help, but he’d been too proud to admit it, even to himself.

Too caught up in his musings, he didn’t hear Dante come closer. He also didn’t register the gentle voice of his talking to him. The next thing that made it through to him were strong arms that picked him up and started to carry him away. His first instinct was to fight his way out of the embrace. Who dared to touch him without his permission?!

While his mind was all up for the fight, his body was not. Too tired, drained from all the sleepless nights and now even without the adrenaline in his veins, he had to admit defeat. To feel Dante’s familiar energy, hear his heartbeat and to be surrounded by his unique smell was definitely helping too. The warmth he emitted was enough to lull him into some state close enough to slumber and Vergil couldn’t help himself and surrendered to his fate.

The next thing his exhausted mind registered was warmth. All engulfing warmth, which surrounded his beaten body. He hated it.

But all of a sudden there was another sensation. Something… gentle. Touching him.

Alarmed, Vergil’s eyes shot open and he tried to summon some swords to get rid of the attacker, just to witness how they flickered in and out of existence against his will and command. An annoyed growl rumbled inside his chest. He was beyond mad at himself. To let himself become that weak was not acceptable.

“It’s fine, brother. Just good old me. Nothing threatening here.”

Dante. His foolish twin. Who came to his rescue. Who saw him at his lowest, on the ground, defeated, too weak to defend himself against a lowly creature. Who carried him back to the shop. Who undressed him to put him into a bath. Who’s currently washing him, touching him gently, like no one did ever before.

Dante, who was more than capable of killing him, they tested their strength often enough for Vergil to know that he’d stand no chance against his twin right now. But somehow he wasn’t afraid, didn’t feel threatened at all. It was just his little brother. Taking care of him.

“Your wounds are still bleeding… why?”

An innocent enough question, but he couldn’t give him the well-deserved answer. He couldn’t admit his weakness. He simply shrugged instead.

Some green light caught his attention.

“It’s not much, but here.”

A vital star. Where did he manage to get this? They were pretty rare nowadays. And he wanted to give it… to him?

“Yes, I want you to have it. Seeing all those wounds on you… I just can’t stand it. Seeing you hurt.”

Vergil was baffled. Did he voice his thoughts out loud without noticing or did Dante read his thoughts?

“Don’t look so spooked. Take that damn star.”

Vergil extended his hand towards it and got it shoved into it. It was just a small one, but it would be more than enough to close all the various scratches on his body.

While he let the healing power do its work, Dante again started to wash the blood and dirt off his skin. Vergil tensed. Why would his brother want to touch his disfigured body?

“Stop it.”

“You’re exhausted. Let me help you.”

“Dante, I said-“

“I heard you, you know?” His twin interrupted him, speaking in a low tone, sounding worried. Vergil stayed silent and waited for him to continue.

“Your tossing and turning. Your heartbeat picking up multiple times during the day and mostly at night. I see how restless you are. How you’re not able to relax. That you don’t eat. Can’t sleep. You’re beyond exhausted.”

Vergil couldn’t believe it. All the time he’d been under the illusion that he’d been good at hiding it. All the time while Dante knew exactly what was going on.

“But even while I know all those things, I couldn’t figure out a way to help you. Because I don’t know the whole story.”

_And you’ll never know it. Not if I can help it._

“Please… help me to understand. Let me help you… Vergil.”

Those pleading eyes, his gentle voice, how he whispered his name in such a loving way. It was his downfall. Always had been. Forever will be.

“It’s nothing you can help with.”

“I think you underestimate my abilities here, brother.”

“Yeah, you think so? Tell me how you plan to chase my nightmares away. How to make my mind stop eating itself? How to make my body stop associating the shower’s cold to the torture I had to endure under Mundus?! I dare you to tell me how you plan on getting rid of those scars on my skin! The proof of my past mistakes! Of all my weaknesses!”

Vergil hadn’t intended to reveal all those things to him, but once he’d started, everything just broke free and wanted to be heard. Dante’s face was a picture of pain and sorrow. It angered him even further. He didn’t need his pity! He didn’t need anyone! He was fine on his own! Always had been.

Until today.

His anger deflated like a damaged balloon. Today he would have died if Dante wouldn’t have come to his rescue. If his brother would’ve been the fool he thought him to be.

Again too caught up in his own head, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Dante started to talk.

“I can’t offer you any solution right away, there you’re right, but I can try. I’ll do whatever it takes, guard your sleep, watch over your dreams, comfort you whenever you need it. It’s not a thing that helps right away, but at least you’re not alone. We can start with little things. We can think of various things to try.”

Vergil just starred dumbfounded at his brother. Was he serious? He was no little child anymore that needed to sleep at his brother’s side to fight off the nightmares. But before he could voice his thoughts, Dante continued to speak.

“But you’re wrong about one thing: There’s no need to get rid of your scars. Your scars are an important part of you. They are proof that you survived. You’re still here, alive and kicking, no matter what the world threw at you.”

He started to wash him again, but this time he focussed his efforts on his scars. A sensation, slightly akin to shame, started to bubble up inside his chest and he even felt some blood rush into his cheeks, causing them to warm up uncomfortably.

“To me… those scars are like medals, showing off how strong we are.”

With that he let the sponge fall into the water and started to pull his shirt over his head. Vergil’s eyes immediately started to scan his torso. A still very prominent scar was visible on the middle of his chest, right in between his pectoral muscles, just inches above his heart.

“I survived all the shit life threw at me and it marked me. But hell, at least I’m still alive to see the bruising, to see the wounds to scar. Better than being dead if you ask me.”

Dante sat down next to the bathtub again. He raised his hand and Vergil caught sight of the scar that marked his greatest mistake. The only one that wasn’t on his own body. His twin had to carry this reminder in the palm of his hand. The one he’d extended towards him to prevent him to fall into hell. The one he’d refused harshly by slashing at it with Yamato.

This very hand was touching one of the scars the armour of Nelo Angelo left him with, causing him to growl at his twin warningly. Just for it to die in his throat when Dante said:

“To me… your scars are beautiful.”

Vergil would never be able to recall what happened afterwards. His mind just refused to cooperate and caused to let his body take over. Apparently the first thing he then did was to pull Dante closer and smash their lips together.

After some moments he came back to his senses and wanted to remove himself from the situation. What had he been thinking? Exactly, nothing, as just stated.

But Dante was not having any of it. He grabbed Vergil and lifted him out of the water, just like he weighed nothing at all, and carried him into his room, laid him down on his bed, effectively getting everything wet in the process.

Vergil wanted to complain, wanted to call him an idiot, be angry at him, but then warm lips connected with his own once again and his brain short-circuited almost immediately.

The whole night was spent with gentle caresses, lips trailing over scarred tissue, drawing shy gasps and almost inaudible moans from Vergil. For the first time in his life, the older twin was grateful for the number of scars that littered his body, as it meant that Dante would spend even more time paying attention to them. And even when he will never find the words to tell Dante exactly that, he somehow knew that there was no need of telling him, his dearest twin could hear it loud and clear between the sounds he couldn’t supress, the ones that just spilled over his lips.

When Vergil was finally able to catch his breath again, the first rays of the rising sun were shining through his window, illuminating both half-demons in a unique kind of light, making everything seem like a dream to the older one. They had spent hours with rolling around in the sheets, exchanged kisses, bites, scratches, fought for dominance over the other, just to soothe the wounds they’d inflicted on each other just mere seconds later, licking away blood and other liquids alike, and even with all those strain on his body he felt more refreshed and rested than he had in weeks. His mind was a pleasant mush of nothing and everything combined, his eyes were dropping low and he felt relaxed enough to finally lay down and sleep.

The last thing he felt was a strong arm pulling him onto a firm, but oh so deliciously warm chest, keeping him close. Safe and secure, surrounded by their combined scent, Vergil drifted off into a deep slumber. Peaceful, without the slightest hint of a nightmare. For the first time in probably forever, Vergil was at ease.

The only thing he’d needed to get there was the love of his twin.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated - just remember - I'm pretty shy about answering them.  
> Maybe you're also interested into taking a look at my tumblr - you also could come and scream at me about DMC (or Hades - especially about ThanZag xD) or literally anything you can find on my dash there ^^  
> My tumblr: [SachikoKuroichi](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sachikokuroichi)
> 
> As always, stay safe everyone  
> See you in my next work.  
> Love ya all~  
> Yours, Sachi <3


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